


Heard it Through the Vine

by Callmetiny



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, I Don't Even Know, Reveal, Vines, there's not much to say, vines all around, vines everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmetiny/pseuds/Callmetiny
Summary: “You don’t like my vine references?”“Nope.” She crossed her arms and shook her head.“Why you always lying, m’lady?”————————In which Chat discovers Vine compilations.





	Heard it Through the Vine

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to EtoilesJaunes, the wonderful ladies and gents on Discord, and my two most vine-savvy friends for helping me here. I’m sorry if it’s terrible (that’s the point :))

It started out simple.

A reference here or there, nothing much.

Mr Pigeon was the first sign of it all—a spectacular “look at all those chickens,” as Chat was catapulted across the sky. A question about it later had only brought on a shrug and a mutter of something Ladybug couldn’t pick up under Chat’s breath. She’d shrugged it off and pretended she _hadn’t_ heard a very bad vine reference, that day.

It wasn’t long before he was cycling through all the big ones.

A cry of “Road work ahead?” when such a sign showed up on the street. He’d looked to her with the widest grin and one raised eyebrow like he’d gone ahead and caught the canary and decided to parade it around like the proud little kitten he was. After getting only a blank face in response, he shrugged and finished the reference himself.

“Uh yeah, I sure hope it does.”

At that point, the sign was at least a quarter mile back, but he didn’t seem to care. He just grinned to himself all the way till the akuma was gone and they were heading their separate ways.

Then a Chipotle worker was akumatized. A customer yelled at the worker because the avocado cost _extra_ , oh _no_ , yada, yada, yada—it was the same old story at that point. Ladybug felt her sympathy for the victim, but having been interrupted in the middle of a presentation to be pelted with avocado was far from her favorite thing. Chat had knocked out three vines in one akuma thanks to it: “fre sh a voca do,” “Chipotle is my life,” and “Oh it’s an avocado. Thanks.” Three vines in one akuma, and all he’d gotten for it was a blob of avocado stuck in his hair, gone as soon as she magicked the damage away. That time, she didn’t even blame the akuma for going after him—three in one go was enough to make her want to fling avocado at him too. Instead, she’d laughed at the avocado stuck in his hair while she’d had the chance.

On and on, down the list Chat went. From “mother trucker dude, that hurt like a buttcheek on a stick,” to “it’s Wednesday, my dudes,” Chat went on. A whole week was spent with the word “ _wow_ ” being echoed in her ear. One time she heard him whistling along to the Mii theme song, only to look down from the rooftop and see a man nursing a fresh bump on his head. Another time, during a particularly late akuma, he started singing “I ain’t get no sleep ‘cause of you, ya’ll never gonna sleep ‘cause of me,” and on and on, until the akuma was done and he was smiling all over again.

Each time he made a badly-timed, terrible-quality reference, he had that same smile. That utterly shit-eating grin on his face.

Every.

Single.

Time.

And then he’d look at her all over again, just as he had done the first time, expecting the same eye roll or the same blank look on her face that would make him smile all over again. Her blank faces, intended to discourage it, had only _encouraged_ it. Time after time, she’d sigh out loud about it all, and time after time, he’d keep looking to her with the biggest smile on his face. She’d been tired of it all since the beginning, but his whole tirade with the Vines had gone ahead and _redefined_ tired for her.

It wouldn’t have even been so bad if he hadn’t been reusing them. Over and over and _over_ and _over_ , as the weeks dragged on, so did the bad vine references, his smiles getting bigger and bigger each time until she thought his cheeks were about to split wide open from the mere thought of a vine. The same vines just rolling off his tongue, in that same tone of voice he had, with that same stupid look on his face.

Around the tenth time she heard the words “I am confusion,” spout out of his mouth, she finally lost it.

They were loitering around on a rooftop after a breeze of an akuma. Over the course of what must’ve been a five minute battle, she’d had to bear witness to exactly three and a half vine references, all of them terrible and all of them badly-timed. He’d had energy to spare, and apparently that was his way of getting it out of his system.

“Chat, vine has been dead for over two years,” she said.

He looked up. “And?”

“Let it _die_ ,” she said. “Please.”

He smiled wide, just as he did every other time a stupid vine reference was brought up. “You don’t like my vine references?”

“Nope.” She crossed her arms and shook her head.

“Why you always lying, m’lady?” he said lowly. It was right under his breath, wouldn’t have been heard if she’d been standing even a centimeter further away than she was. Unfortunately for him, she was standing close enough, and after a month of being unceasingly tortured by his rotten references, she snapped one more time.

“Screw you and your vine references too. If I hear one more,” she jabbed a one up in front of his face, “ _One more_ , then we’re over, you hear me? You can find yourself a new Ladybug.”

Still smiling as wide as ever, he nodded. “Loud and clear.”

Or not.

The next time they met up, he was right back at it. And apparently Hawkmoth’s new name was Richard.

“What the _fuck_ Richard,” he crossed his arms at the akuma, fake-frowning all the way. Then, he went ahead and slapped a pun on top of it all, with a cry of, “ _Dick_!” before he slapped the akuma right in its face.

Looking back, she knew that was the exact moment she gave up. It was all there in the smile on her face.

Yup.

She gave up.

 

————- /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ -————

 

“Don’t _fuck_ with me.”

They were getting worse.

“I’ve got the power of Ladybug _and_ anime on my side.”

And she’d started accepting them. Just like with the puns, her groans and complaints had just flittered their way on into the background to be forgotten, eventually petering out.

Another week had passed since she’d tried (and failed) to get him to stop, and he’d just kept going and going and going with the bad references. One video on the Ladyblog had compiled a whole twenty-two minutes of nothing but Chat Noir’s bad references, aptly titled “Twenty-two minutes straight of Chat Noir making Vine references”. Most of the clips included a split second of her rolling her eyes in the background, if they weren’t just clips taken as Chat screamed the references across the Parisian sky. Other clips only got the reference and that stupid grin he always made. Regardless, the videos were there, and the citizens of Paris were eating them up. Not even two days, and it already had five million views. Alya was ecstatic.

And nobody was getting tired of it. Nobody was even questioning why, after two years of not even the slightest Vine references, Chat was going in hard with them. He was making reference after reference, time after time without even slowing down the slightest bit, and nobody was doing anything but pasting the clips together and laughing at his terrible timing. Although the pun compilations still got the most views, the Vine reference compilations were gaining more and more traction as time went on, and they were showing no sign of stopping.

And neither did Chat, it seemed.

Though she’d gone ahead and accepted it all, the question was still there, lingering like a dormant disease in the back of her brain and just waiting for one moment where she could finally go ahead and ask. _Ask_. Why now? Why, after two years, did Chat suddenly decide to lay it on thick with the references?

Unless he’d just discovered them. Which was pretty far from possible. There was no way anybody made their way through 2015 without hearing “what are those?” being shouted out at crocs all around Paris or that stupid “deez nuts” punchline made after every single question. 2015 had brought on a lot of bad things, and those dead vines were two of them. They’d spread like the plague all through the world, and there’d been no avoiding the carnage they left in their path.

No, there was no way Chat had _just_ heard of them.

But she couldn’t really think of any other options.

He was laying sprawled out on top of a roof, his eyes half closed as he sat there and watched the sunset with her, when she finally got up the courage to ask. It felt like such a personal question rolling off her tongue, but there she was, asking it anyways.

“Look it,” he said, pointing up. “It’s a freaking bat. I love bats.”

Sure enough, a single bat was flitting its way across the pink-streaked sky.

She was sitting slumped out on the edge of a roof, her hands keeping her chin propped up. She didn’t even take her eyes away from the sunset as she asked, just kept looking straight ahead. “Chat, can I ask you something?”

“Depends on the question.”

“Why did you just start making vine references now?” She turned back to look at him. “Vine’s been dead for two years.”

A shrug in response. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” she asked. Her curious mind was getting the better of her, pressing on.

“I’m a little late to the party okay?” he said, smiling all over again. “I haven’t seen very many.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Such a disappointment to your generation.”

“I’m your disappointment.”

She didn’t even answer that one, just got up off the ledge and stretched out her back. The last wisps of sunlight were ducking away under the skyline one by one, the sky getting darker and darker.

Finally, she ground out one solitary “okay,” under her breath. In that same tone of voice she’d heard Chat use thousands of times over the past month, she muttered out the word.

She swore his face lit up the sky.

 

————- /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ -————

 

The next day, Paris was still in a frenzy over vines. The Chat compilations were getting more and more views, people were making t-shirts of it all—the city was going ballistic over it all.

The vines were spreading. All over, they spread.

And they spread.

And they spread.

Oh boy did they spread.

“Adrikins!”

“Ahh, _Chloe_!”

Marinette’s head perked up at the sound of it. Adrien stood in the doorway, a croissant in his hand with a massive bite take out of it, looking spooked.

Mouth full of food, he went ahead and said it. “I coulda dropped my croissant.” And then, obviously fighting a grin, he sat down at his desk. Chloe was sitting there, confused.

“Adrien, what did you just say?” Chloe said. “Don’t tell me you’re taking after Chat Noir too.”

Adrien’s grin, or rather the one he’d been trying (and failing) to hide, dropped. “Maybe,” he said. The smile came back, just the tiniest little curl in the corner of his mouth.

Marinette sighed and propped her head up on her hand, letting her eyes drift between Adrien and Chloe as they went on.

“This is all so ridiculous. It’s not even that funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Adrien said with a shrug. He was still fighting that smile on his face, trying to smother it down with another bite from his croissant.

“If it were funny, then Ladybug would be doing it. Not just _Chat Noir_ ,” she went on. “Ladybug doesn’t make Vine references.”

As if on command, Alya piped up. “Oh yeah?”

It was only about half a second before a high quality video, must’ve been about 720p at least, showed up on Alya’s phone. Her face—Ladybug’s, that is—was in the middle of the frame, a smile on it. Marinette recognized the look on her face and the sunset in the background. All it took was the quiet “okay,” to pop out of her mouth, and Chloe was going about three shades of red.

That was _all_ it _took_. Alya sat down in her seat, Chloe went back to minding her own business, and everybody ignored Adrien practically glowing in the front of the room.

Marinette muttered something along the lines of “ _wow_ ” under her breath, letting out another sigh before Mme Bustier walked into the room and class started.

 

————- /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ -————

 

“You know, Chat,” she said. He perked up at the sound of his name as always. “This whole thing you got going-”

“With the vines, you mean?”

“Yes, with the vines,” she went on, “It’s kinda getting out of hand.”

“How so?”

“My whole class was a _mess_ today because one kid made a reference.” She leaned back on her hands, propping herself up against the roof. “A whole day wasted over a vine reference.”

After Adrien’s singular _obvious_ reference, the class had gone into about a big of a frenzy as Paris about the whole thing. Some, if not most, of it was just to annoy Chloe. Others, Rose in particular, were just doing it for fun. Regardless, it hadn’t been a very productive day, and it was all Adrien’s fault.

No, Chat started the whole thing. It was his fault.

“What can I say,” he went on, “I have a very wide influence.”

“Whatever you say, kitty.”

Silence.

“Which vine was it?” he asked quietly.

“Why?”

“Just curious.”

She sighed, swinging her feet back and forth a little bit. “The croissant one.”

Chat stiffened. That wasn’t good.

She looked over, concern washing over her as he just sat there and stared at her. His eyes, so bright just a second ago, went _blank_.

“Chat?”

He blinked. Slowly. Then he seemed to realize that she was talking, looked up at her, and blinked again. “I just remembered, I left the oven on,” he said, getting up. That blank look was still in his eyes, his feet fumbling along the pavement. “My- my _dad’s_ gonna kill me. I’ll be right back.”

“Chat, wait.”

But he was already leaping off the edge of the roof.

She stood there for one moment, a very short moment that probably should’ve been longer than it was, before a text came through on her yo-yo.

“Whoops, I have to eat now. Sorry, can’t come back out :)”

She sighed and sank back down onto the ledge of the roof. That was strange. But Chat was strange. Still, that whole thing was stranger than usual for him, and considering the standard he set, that was really saying something.

Oven on? How stupid did he think she was?

But he wouldn’t have ditched unless it was something serious. Right?

Right.

Was it the croissant thing?

Maybe. She pushed that out of her mind as soon as she thought of it. No, why would he.

Unless.

No.

As she stood up and swung home, she decided not to put too much thought into it.

 

————- /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ -————

 

It was easy to say that Adrien was stiff when he walked in the door the next day. Very, _very_ easy to say. He was wet from the rain outside, moving like his joints were rusted into place, with his hair sticking up in all the wrong directions and a sleepless look in his eyes.

The quiet thrum of the classroom conversations and the gentle pitter-patter of the rain outside went on as he took his seat, and nobody apparently noticed.

Except her, of course.

She watched him all but stagger into the room, stiffly sit down in his seat, take a bite from his soggy croissant, and stare straight ahead like the wall in front of him held all the answers in the world.

It was just a little concerning, she was sure of that. And Nino didn’t seem to be making any move to investigate—he was too busy chatting with Alya, the two of them utterly oblivious to the puddle of Adrien slumped forward on the desk.

So she tapped at his shoulder. “Adrien?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?”

He straightened himself up, turned to look back at her, stared at her for a moment, blinked once or twice, then answered. “Good. Yeah- I’m good.” He shrugged to pretend nonchalance about it, but there was something in his eyes. She couldn’t place it. There was something there that he was trying to cover up with nonchalance, and she couldn’t figure out what it was—a recipe for disaster.

And then came his next words.

“Just… I left the oven on last night, I think,” he said, thinking. Again, he was faking the look on his face—that ‘deep in thought, trying to remember’ one—while his eyes told a whole other story. He was looking for something. And at those words, she knew exactly what that something was.

She didn’t let on right away. She didn’t process it right away; instead, she sat there and she stiffened, her body well aware of what had just happened while her head fought to catch up. For a couple of seconds, she sat there.

“The oven on?” she finally asked.

“Yeah, the oven.”

She froze for a moment. Seconds ticked on by, and Adrien’s smile only got bigger.

Then she let it slip out of her mouth. In that same old tone of voice she’d been hearing for a month, she let it slip out.

“Okay.”


End file.
